18th of Last Seed, 4E 154 - Ebban Mallus

The following is an extract from the journal of Ebban Mallus, recovered by S'raffa in 4E 176

Treva's Watch, The Rift - 18th of Last Seed, 154

I've never quite felt comfortable in this place, nor have I ever discovered who exactly Treva was, but I will be the first to admit the family 'castle' has been a warm and welcome embrace after these weeks of Skyrim's bitter roads. S'raffa, Mother and I have had quite the journey from Wayrest. At one point I was unsure Mother would even be able to complete the trek. But Father was adamant in his letters that we should attend the harvest feast before I am shipped off to Alinor, and Mother insisted that she would love to see 'the charming old fool' once more. I do admire her for that. Father has had another child and now found a new wife, Vala, since leaving us in Wayrest, yet there is no bitterness between them. She has never told me exactly what happened those years ago, but I have never asked. She has not lost her love for Father though, the closest she's ever come to finding another has been old S'raffa. Although, if it were not for the obvious obstacles that would be most frowned upon at home, I would be more than proud to call the fine Khajiit Father.

I have only visited this place twice before, and both when I was very young. Uncle Stalleo holds these feasts of his every Last Seed (he owns a few farms near Riften, which have prospered greatly) but attending them has always been difficult from High Rock and especially with Mother's declining health. That's why Father sent S'raffa I suppose. Mother knows the route well enough, but her sight is fading, and she can no longer adequately defend herself. Though we encountered no trouble, I've heard the Reach is stirring. Leaving the road is a dangerous business these days.

I would have thought nostalgia would dampen the experience this time. And true, the fort (and it is a fort, regardless of what Illiana will tell you. No one would dare call this place a castle in the west) did seem a little darker, the walls a little more worse for wear, the highest corners of the rooms in want for a dusting. But my, it has been a wonderful few days. Father greeted me with such passion and emotion that I thought he might weep. 'My boy! Look at you! How old are you now? 18?'. I'm 19, but I dare not have corrected him in fear of saddening him, for I have never seen him so happy. And in truth, I struggle to remember the last time I felt such exultation. So many lined up to greet us, even S'raffa who, though not actually related to any of us by blood, has been lovingly accepted into the Mallus Clan. Finna, my delightful new half-sister, is particularly fond of him, as am I of her. The three of us spent hours playing find-the-theif and exploring the courtyard, and I fear I will miss the pretty little elf terribly when I am gone.

Mother was very fond of Vala too. 'Oh Thedorus!' I heard her whisper to Father 'You've done well for yourself, a beautiful girl with a kind heart'. Father chuckled 'Yes, a fine mountain flower in this harsh northern land'. Personally, I don't see the beauty they mean, but she is a warm, loving woman nonetheless, who embraced me as though I were her own son and told me about how much Father spoke of me, before bustling off to help Aunt Ondi with the food preparations.

Oh and the food was divine! Uncle Stalleo had acquired a new longtable in the main hall, made from 'the finest timber The Rift had to offer', though you could not appreciate the craftsmanship if you tried it was so packed. No seat was empty and no wood was visible beneath the sea of food they surrounded. The only faces missing from the crowd were Aunt Leandiah (away on important business in the Imperial City, though she sent her love), cousins Casath and Helfar (serving House Redoran in one of the latest rebuilding efforts on Vvardenfell, a sack of ash yams arrived last night as an apology for their truancy) and Brother Kieran and his family.

Kieran was apparently supposed to have joined us on the journey to Skyrim, taking a boat from Sentinel to Wayrest in order to make use of S'raffa's guidance. The invitation had been bluntly refused however, and this is not a topic many here are willing to discuss with me. Not even mad Aunt Helga, who is notoriously loose-lipped about anything and everything. Needless to say, Father was visibly hurt by Kieran's absence, and took to his chambers for a while before dinner to write to him. My brother is brooding and bitter at the best of times, perhaps I can go by Sentinel on my way south, attempt to mend the rift between Father and son.

Alas, I will remain here only one day more. Mother has decided to stay for a while, perhaps for the winter, until the journey home is easier. But after tomorrow, S'raffa and I will return to Wayrest and from there I will depart for the Summerset Isles to serve the Mede on the Ruby Throne. I long to be able to part with the details, but these are secrets I must burden no other with, not even dead paper.

I will write again tomorrow. For now, I must go. It has started to snow and Little Finna is knocking so hard on my door I fear she will either break it or her poor hand!

Until the morrow, I leave you,

Ebban Titus Mallus